


Don't Trust Atoms, They Make Up Everything

by thimblefingers



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Chemistry, M/M, Science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7490019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimblefingers/pseuds/thimblefingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred and Arthur are forced to be lab partners in the world's most horrifying class: AP Chemistry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> So after a year of this story being on Fanfiction, I figured it was high time to post it here (with the grammar edits I didn't make during my 4 a.m. writing sessions). Aside from that, however, everything's the same - including the authors' notes, so have fun with my random babbling. I'll post the chapters as soon as I get them edited. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Alfred looked at his schedule for the fifth time that day, going over the classes he had been assigned for his junior year with an uncharacteristic frown on his face. He had known when he went to the counselor for scheduling the previous year that he still had a few required classes to take (especially with his chosen profession – science wasn't exactly an easy field to get into), but that didn't mean he wasn't still upset that they had replaced his theatre class with AP chemistry. Mr. Turner had nearly cried when he heard the news that one of his favorite students couldn't take his class, but what could Alfred do? He had dreamed of teaching science since he was 8, and he couldn't stop now just because there was a scheduling conflict - or because of the fact that he had just been saddled with one of the hardest teachers at his school.

Alfred sighed and slammed his face down onto the table he was seated at, jostling one of the piles of miscellaneous wood blocks that sat around his shop-class homeroom. His brother Matthew looked up in alarm, halting in the middle of his conversation with Alfred’s soft-spoken best friend Kiku. Matt sent him a questioning glance, which soon turned into a groan of exasperation as he saw the paper clutched in his twin’s hand.

“This again, Al? Come on, you’ve known about this for months. There’s no reason to get upset about it now.”

Alfred shoved himself upright and looked over at his brother in disbelief. “Well yeah, I knew about the whole theatre thing, but I didn’t know about _this!_ ”

Matthew leaned over as Alfred pointed an accusatory finger at the section labeled ‘AP Chemistry’ on his schedule. “What are you even talking about?”

Alfred’s movements somehow managed to become even more exaggerated as he pointed once more towards the paper. “ _This!_ I thought that there was another teacher for AP chem, that maybe I’d get lucky, but nope! I’ve got _Brewer_.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “And what’s so bad about Mr. Brewer? I had him for earth science and he was perfectly nice.”

A look of horror passed across Alfred’s face. “No man, you don’t understand. I’ve heard that not a single person has ever gotten an A in his class. Like, _ever_. It's like I only having three hearts left when the boss battle is about to start, Mattie! And I don’t even have any power ups!”

“Okay…?” Matthew questioned, a confused look on his face, “Aside from whatever _that_ was supposed to mean, there’s got to be a bright side, right? Maybe your lab partner will let you cheat off them or something.”

Alfred perked up at the suggestion. Of course, a hero like him would never cheat off another student, but he had totally forgotten that he’d have a lab partner. There was something especially exciting about the prospect of making a new friend that he could hang out with the whole year and do cool experiments with. Hell, they might even be someone who understood the material well enough to tutor him! That way, there was no way he could fail the class!

“Aw, Mattie, you always know what to say!” Alfred exclaimed, hastily throwing his arms around his brother before gathering up his things and practically running out the door.

“Alfred-san,” Kiku called after him, “The bell hasn’t even rung yet!”

* * *

Alfred sat in one of blue swivel chairs, leg bouncing nervously as he waited for class to start. He'd been hoping that he would be in this class with at least one person he knew, but after five minutes it seemed pretty obvious that that would be impossible. He chanced another glance at the door, hoping that somebody would walk in (and he meant that literally – anybody would be preferable to sitting in an empty classroom by himself). Another peek at his schedule confirmed that yes, he was in the right room, but with only two minutes left until class was supposed to start he was wondering if there was some major typo on the paper beside him.

A few seconds later, people finally began shuffling into the room, books in hand. Alfred flashed a bright smile and a wave at the newcomers, but only a few of them even acknowledged his presence. He looked around as they each picked one of the five tables to shove their things on, feeling a slight pang of disappointment as he was left all alone at his table once they had all entered the classroom. He tried to tell himself that that was just fine, considering that only 6 people had walked into the classroom (and most of them seemed to know each other already – at least, they had gathered into two groups). But as time continued to tick by Alfred realized that nobody else was going to walk in, and that he would either be stuck at this table by himself or he’d have to deal with the teacher placing him next to people that most likely didn’t want him there.

Just as the bell rang, a door hidden in a corner on the left side of the classroom  was nearly slammed open, and a man he presumed to be Mr. Brewer rushed in. He was carrying a large stack of sickeningly yellow paper that he hurriedly began passing around to the students (who soon came to realize that what appeared to be a large stack of a singular paper turned out to be a relatively small stack of a very intimidating syllabus). Alfred’s eyes widened as he was handed his, flipping through the nearly 30-page packet with trepidation. How were they supposed to get through all of _this_ by the end of the year?

As Alfred began to question his entire career choice, Mr. Brewer pulled out his own copy of the syllabus and started to introduce himself (Alfred couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the usual ‘welcome to your new class’ speech – he was busy staring at the year’s plan with undisclosed horror). A quick look up from the packet in his hands showed the relatively young teacher leaning jauntily across the classroom’s lab counter. _At least he doesn’t_ seem _evil_ , he thought to himself as he watched him smile and crack jokes with his new students. Alfred’s ears perked up when there was a mention of food in the conversation, and he finally decided to zone back in.

“…so after every test, we bring food into the classroom to celebrate. Or mourn. Depends on the test.” Mr. Brewer grinned as a general snicker went around the room, and Alfred sat up a little straighter. Eating after a test? Now there was some chemistry he could _really_ get behind. Say what you want about Alfred F. Jones, but he never turned down a good meal (especially when that meal was something other than cafeteria food at school – in small-town America, it practically made you a _god_ ).

“Oh!” Mr. Brewer exclaimed, hastily turning around and making his way back to his computer, “I almost forgot to take attendance. Just say ‘here’ when I call out your name, alright? So, Gilbert Beilschmidt-“ “I’m not here!”

An accented voice called from across the room, followed by a round of giggles from the two students sitting beside him and a scoff from a young woman at the next table over.

“Very funny, Mr. Beilschmidt,” Mr. Brewer chuckled, “But I believe you just gave yourself away.” A few snickers came from the table now, and Gilbert promptly smacked them before muttering something about ‘his awesomeness’.

“Francis Bonnefoy.”

“Here.”

“Katyusha Braginski.”

“Here.”

“Antonio Carriedo.”

“Here.”

“Elizaveta Hedevary.”

“Here.”

“Alfred Jones.”

Alfred flashed his signature smile and turned a little in his seat to see the teacher before letting out a booming, “The hero is HERE!” that went largely unnoticed.

“Arthur Kirkland.”

Silence filled the room. Now here was a point of interest, and the students all gazed around curiously as if one of them was Arthur and just refused to admit it. But as the seconds ticked by, it was clear that whoever he was, he wasn’t there.

“Absent then. And Lili Zwingli.”

“Here.”

Mr. Brewer stood up from his computer, brushing off his pants and making his way back towards the front of the room. “Alright then, that seems to be everyone. Now if you’ll open your syllabus to page-“

A loud crash was heard from outside the classroom, accompanied by what those nearest it would understand to be copious amounts of swearing. Mr. Brewer quickly hurried towards the door, opening it to find a young man on his hands and knees, rubbing his face with one hand and attempting to pick up a stack of books with the other. He looked up as the door opened, face reddening in embarrassment as he gathered his things and quickly stood up to face the teacher.

“I take it you’re Mr. Kirkland then?” Mr. Brewer said with no small amount of amusement. A quick nod came from the teenager. “Well, come on in and have a seat. We were just about to go over the syllabus, so I think you’ll pick things up pretty quickly from here.”

Another nod, and then suddenly the boy was shoving his things next to Alfred and sitting himself into one of the blue swivel chairs that surrounded their table. Alfred flashed a quick grin at the obviously flustered young man before whispering, “Hi! My name’s Alfred F. Jones!” His attempt at friendliness was met with a glare as Arthur scooted his chair a little further away from him. Alfred didn’t really mind though. In all truthfulness, he was just glad that he wouldn’t have to sit alone.

“I’d ask your name, but I already kinda figured out that it’s Arthur.” Alfred whispered again, and again Arthur scowled in his general direction (his eyes never actually leaving the teacher). “I’ve never seen you before, what grade are you in?”

Another few seconds went by without a response and Alfred pouted, not prepared to be ignored. He leaned over slightly so that he could get even closer to the young man and opened his mouth to speak before Arthur turned hastily to face him.

“If you don’t shut up in the next 30 seconds, I will personally castrate you.” He whispered furiously, eyes flickering hurriedly towards the teacher and back again, “I already missed half of this class because of my brother's idiotic driving and I _refuse_ to miss any more vital information about this course because of your incessant _whining_.”

With that, Arthur turned back towards the front of the classroom with a barely concealed _huff_ , leaving Alfred to stare dumbstuck back at him. It was a good few seconds before Alfred came back to his senses, letting out in an awe-stuck and admittedly louder-than-planned tone of voice, “Holy shit, you’re _British_?”

Mr. Brewer glanced over to their table with a disapproving frown, causing Arthur’s face (which had just been cooling down from his _previous_ embarrassment) to flush a shade of red Alfred had only ever seen in kool-aid. _Well that can’t be healthy_ , he thought with a small chuckle before remembering exactly _why_ he was so embarrassed. Alfred allowed a sheepish look to fall onto his face before gazing up at the chemistry teacher.

“I should hope you aren’t holding a discussion while I’m talking, Mr. Jones and Mr. Kirkland.” Mr. Brewer looked down at them from his place at the front of the classroom. “After all, this is a rigorous course designed only for those with intentions to work their hardest, and if you plan on slacking off I have no qualms with having you drop the class, understood?”

Both boys nodded furiously at the teacher, assuring him that they would be model students for the rest of the course. It was only after Mr. Brewer had turned to face the other half of the classroom, however, that Arthur sent him a quick peace sign under the table (although the force of the action and the look on his face could only mean that that was the British version of flipping him off).

It was going to be a long year.


	2. Partners in Crime

The second day of school was, admittedly, not much better than the first. After the usual day of introductions and procedures, most teachers were at a complete loss for what to do next. Some preferred to jump right into teaching (like the insane man that taught APUSH – Alfred had heard that he’d already given forty pages of reading for homework), but most tried to allow a grace period for the students (and teachers) to acclimate back into school life. Alfred thought it was just laziness on the part of the teachers, but he certainly wasn’t complaining that the only homework he had been given so far was just paperwork for his parents to fill out.

In fact, almost all of Alfred’s teachers had somehow spent another day going over the classes’ rules and procedures instead of getting started on any of the actual work. This laid-back attitude seeped its way into him after spending half of the day staring at the wall or doodling in one of his new notebooks, so by the time he walked into his fifth period class he was understandably prepared for another hour of ‘what this class is all about’.

Suffice to say, he was unpleasantly surprised when he walked into the chemistry room to find ‘AP CHEMISTRY: READ CHAPTER ONE BY TOMORROW’ written in all caps on the agenda at the top of the whiteboard. Alfred stared in shock at the awful news, repeating the words over and over in his head before letting out a soft, “ _What the fuck?”_

The words rang out in the empty room for a moment before a sharper, crisper voice responded, “You ought to watch your language.”

Alfred spun around, face slightly pink at the thought that he had been caught swearing by the teacher _again_ (detention on the second day wasn’t exactly something he had been looking forward to). He searched the room for any sign of the older man, but the only person in the room was a green-sweatered teenager holding a steaming styrofoam cup. _Arthur,_ Alfred concluded, visibly relaxing before blurting out, “You’re not supposed to have that in here.”

“And _you’re_ not supposed to swear in the middle of classrooms,” Arthur put his cup down with a sigh, “But I should have guessed after yesterday that this would become a regular occurrence.”

Alfred stiffened, crossing his arms defensively before retorting, “Hey man, you just took me by surprise is all. I mean, you wouldn’t expect to find a random British person in the middle of the land of liberty and freedom!”

Arthur scoffed. “I think you mean the land of obesity and bad tea. Honestly, this stuff is disgusting.” He answered, face contorting into a scowl as he took a sip out of the styrofoam cup.

“Why do you drink it then?” Alfred asked, setting his pile of books on the table before flopping himself down into the chair directly next to him.

Arthur raised his eyebrows and scooted his chair a little further away. “Because, as this _monstrosity_ of a school corporation won’t allow me to bring in real, proper tea, I’m stuck drinking the cafeteria’s piss-poor excuse for a heated beverage.”

Alfred resisted the urge to point out Arthur’s own use of a curse word in favor of stealing the young man’s drink to decide for himself. He ignored the repeated demands and shouts of the boy beside him and concentrated on the flavor of the tea, savoring the taste before placing the cup back down on the table. He allowed himself a few seconds of deliberation before turning towards Arthur.

“You know, I completely agree. That tea is pretty gross. You know what would make it taste better?” He asked with a sly grin. “Dumping it in the harbor.”

At this, Arthur stood up with a scowl, walked his tea over to the trashcan, and threw it away before returning to the table and carefully seating himself exactly two chairs away from Alfred. Letting out a pleased chuckle, Alfred leaned back in his chair and smirked at the young man in front of him. Just as he was opening his mouth the goad the other even further, the door burst open, the rest of their classmates rushing in from what was apparently a late lunch. Alfred blinked in surprise at their entrance. He had almost totally forgotten that he was there for class.

As the students made their way to their seats, Alfred sat back in his chair, resigning himself to the mind-numbingly boring class ahead of him. He reached over to grab his book from underneath his stack of folders when suddenly a thin hand was placed near his own. He glanced up in surprise to see Arthur leaning towards him with a scowl still firmly planted on his face. The young man opened his mouth slightly, glancing around before whispering across the table, “I know you are of less than average intellect, but I would have thought you would at least know I wasn’t alive during the Boston Tea Party, and therefore wouldn’t be offended by your little joke. But by all means, if you can manage to find a harbor near here I would love to watch you drink tea straight out of the water.”

With that, Arthur flopped back in his seat with a smirk before pulling out his own book and turning to chapter one. Alfred himself was left gaping at the young man, his mouth slowly turning into a scowl of its own. He may have been a lot of things, but stupid sure as hell wasn’t one of them. Grasping his book in his hand, he gritted his teeth at the look on the other’s face. _Oh yeah,_ he thought, _This means war._

Mr. Brewer entered the room, breaking the unseen tension between the two with his mere presence. The whole class stared up at him with what were mostly smiles as he made his way behind the lab counter, even Alfred ungritting his teeth at the sight of the happy-go-lucky man. It wasn’t in his nature to stay angry for long anyway, even at jerks like Arthur. He did, however, try to avoid glancing at the boy as their chemistry teacher began class for the day.

“Good afternoon everyone!” Mr. Brewer exclaimed, arms thrown out as if to embrace them all, “As you can see, today we’ll be reading chapter one! I know it might seem a little sudden, but this is an AP course. It’s extremely rigorous, and we won’t be slacking on the material _at all_. This is meant to simulate a college course, so we will be treating it as such.”

Alfred couldn’t help biting his lip to hold his laughter, glancing over at Arthur to see if he thought the teacher’s speech was as hilariously ridiculous as he did. He knew as well as the others that whatever he was saying about college was complete bull, just like his 3rd grade teacher telling him people only wrote in cursive in high school. Instead of laughing, however, Arthur looked relatively pale, his lips pressed harshly into a thin line. Alfred almost rolled his eyes, thinking _Of course Mr. Prim-and-Proper over there wouldn’t laugh at how stupid this is_.

“The reason we will be covering the entirety of chapter one in a day,” Brewer continued, “Is not only because the subject material is simply the basics that you should remember from your previous chemistry class, but because tomorrow we will be having our first lab.”

Whispers broke out across the room at this news, everyone overjoyed to be doing lab work. Alfred fistpumped slightly, ecstatic that the whole class wouldn’t be boring lectures. He had heard that there was a ton more hands-on stuff in AP, but he was still happy that it had been confirmed. While he wasn’t the best at paying attention, he blew everyone else out of the water when he could actually work with the chemicals.

As the class celebrated, Mr. Brewer began handing out sheets of paper explaining the materials needed, procedures, and calculations to be done afterwards. Alfred glanced over his, smile faltering a little when he saw that the experiment dealt with measurements and significant figures (which the teacher fondly referred to as ‘sig figs’). He had been hoping for something a little more exciting than watching metal dissolve for 45 minutes, but he supposed it was better than sitting in the classroom all day.

“Now,” Mr. Brewer added, causing Alfred’s head to pop up from behind his paper, “I’m going to assign lab partners. Keep in mind that these will be your partners for the rest of the year, so I’d recommend getting to know them so that you can cooperate fully as a team. Let’s see here…”

The teacher trailed off, scanning the room before turning towards the rightmost table. “Seeing as there are only eight of you, it’ll be easier to just pair you up with the person you’re next to. That means Braginski and Zwingli, Hedevary and Carriedo, Beilschmidt and Bonnefoy, and Jones and Kirkland.”

Alfred stared in horror at his new lab partner, looking over only to see Arthur with the exact same expression. In a matter of seconds, both of their hands were in the air, staring at their teacher with desperation. Mr. Brewer glanced over at them, eyebrows quirking upwards as he asked, “Yes?”

“I don’t think it would be wise for us to be partners.” Arthur blurted, his hands clasping each other as Alfred nodded vigorously.

The teacher’s eyes widened before furrowing in confusion. “Why not?”

This time Alfred spoke up. “It just wouldn’t really work is all. We’re not…compatible. It wouldn’t be good to have both of us together.” _Near acid,_ he added in his head.

Mr. Brewer regarded them in silence for a moment, a look of deliberation on his face. Alfred crossed his fingers under the table as the teacher stared, eyes switching back and forth between the two students. After a few seconds had passed, he stated, “I know you may not be friends, but in the real world you don’t get to pick and choose who you have to work with. I think it would be a good exercise in cooperation for you to work with someone you don’t know and may or may not like. The point of this class is to learn, regardless of your ‘compatibility’. Think instead of your compatibility as scientists.”

With that, the teacher turned towards the rest of the class to begin discussing the procedures for the lab, leaving Alfred and Arthur once again gaping up at the front of the room. It was Arthur who first turned towards Alfred, leaning in before whispering, “If you mess this up for me, I swear you’ll never see the light of day again.”

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows before replying, “Why do you assume I’m gonna mess this up? Hell, you don’t even _know_ me. For all I know, you could completely slack off and leave me to do all the work.”

Arthur bit his lip, looking at the other with disdain. “Oh, believe me, I know boys like you. You think you’re all that because you’re on the football team, but when push comes to shove you’re completely unreliable.”

Their conversation paused for a moment as Mr. Brewer turned back towards them, checking to make sure that they knew to either buy goggles or find their old ones. Alfred and Arthur both nodded vigorously, but as the teacher turned away again both of their faces morphed back into glares. Alfred clenched his fist, grinding his teeth together as he leaned towards Arthur once more.

“Joke’s on you, asshole. I don’t play football.” He whispered furiously before concentrating on the teacher, forcing himself not to pay even the slightest bit of attention to anything Arthur was saying or doing. He could tell where Arthur was coming from with his stupid ‘High School Musical’-esque stereotypes, but as far as Alfred was concerned, he didn’t matter. He would just have to get through this one year working with the asshole, and then he’d never have to talk to him again.

When the bell rang, they both left the room without a single look at the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two done! The story is a little slow right now, but it’ll start picking up once we get into the actual science instead of all the introductory stuff (just like real school). And, as I said before, everything in this is going to be as scientifically correct as possible, which means that I’m quite literally copying experiments straight out of my lab book. So bear with me as these two nerds learn the exact same stuff I did!  
> ~Alix Marie


	3. Time After Time

Alfred pushed his glasses up on his nose, wondering whether or not he could get away with just not wearing them that day. He stared down at the box containing his lab goggles, slowly opening the flap and contemplating the eyewear inside. If he tried, he might be able to just fit the goggles _over_ his glasses and eliminate the problem entirely. He pulled them out by the elastic and had just begun his attempt at fitting both objects on his face when a bitingly sarcastic voice rang out from behind him.

“They aren’t going to fit, you know.” Arthur announced from behind his lab book, where he was scribbling down the last few details of his pre-lab work. “Just leave the bloody glasses in the room and wear the goggles like a sensible person.”

“Isn’t bloody like, a British curse word or something?” Alfred smirked, “What happened to the whole ‘don’t swear in class’ thing? Or does that not apply to members of the asshole club?”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, setting his lab book down with the pen safely nudged in the crease. “Members of the asshole club?”

Alfred gave him an apologetic look. “Oh, sorry,” He amended, “I meant _president_ of the asshole club.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, folding his arms and resting them on the table. “You know, I didn’t think you could be any more juvenile than you already were, but congratulations on proving me wrong.”

A pouty look crossed Alfred’s face (though he would vehemently deny it), and he pulled the goggles back up to attempt fitting them on his face again. “It’s not _my_ fault you’re a stuffy old man. Maybe if you lightened up once in a while you’d know how cool I am.”

Arthur let out an indignant huff before replying, “I am _nothing_ like an old man, and if you had any sense of propriety you’d understand that I’m simply acting like a gentleman. One who doesn’t need to ‘lighten up’ and one who knows you’re about as cool as liquefied iron!”

“Propriety? What is this, Pride and Prejudice?” Alfred asked, nose scrunched up in disgust.

“Oh, please,” Arthur scoffed, looking at Alfred with disdain, “Like _you’ve_ read Pride and Prejudice.”

“I have, actually.” Alfred replied, finally sliding his glasses off his face and replacing them with the newly-unwrapped goggles, “Maybe if you stopped making bullshit assumptions of people before actually getting to know them, someone might actually like you.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a quick laugh coming from the other side of the room. Both of them whipped their heads around, only to see Francis leaning against the doorframe, the rest of the class hanging out in the hall behind them. “I see you two are getting along fine.” He quipped, smirk on his face.

“Belt up, frog.” Arthur retorted with a sneer before returning to his lab book.

The only reply from the Frenchman was another laugh, and Alfred looked around him in confusion as the rest of the class shuffled in. _Who is that guy? Does Arthur know him?_ Alfred asked himself, curiosity lighted at the almost familiar banter between the two. For a moment, Alfred almost turned to ask him, but then remembered that he was angry at him. He slumped back in his chair in frustration, reaching up to rub at the growing marks made by the goggles on his face. Something about Arthur just seemed to bother him, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he was acting like that. Surely _normal_ people didn’t automatically hate someone the moment they met them, right?

Mr. Brewer made his way into the classroom, stopping both Alfred’s musing and the small conversations going on behind him. Unlike the previous days, however, he didn’t find his way to the front of the classroom, opting instead to hang back near the door that led to the lab. He reached over behind a stack of papers in the corner to pull out a pen before announcing, “Alright, everybody line up on your way to the lab. I’m going to initial your procedure and data charts to prevent any fudging of your data.”

Alfred gulped a little as he lined up behind Arthur. AP Chemistry was seeming less and less like a class to him and more like a prison. He looked down at his lab book, thumbing over the spine before flipping it open to the first page, where he had written his pre-lab work. After quickly checking that everything was in order (not that he could have done much about it now – it was all written in pen), he held the book out for Mr. Brewer to sign. His initials were hurriedly scratched upon the paper, and Alfred was pointed to the direction of the lab.

There were two sections of the lab, separated in the middle by a few counters and two large white boxes. Alfred hesitated for a moment between them before deciding that the one on the left (filled with anatomical models and fish tanks) was the biology lab, leaving the one on the right as the chemistry lab. He took a few tentative steps forward, trying to get used to the strange shift in atmosphere between there and the classroom. It was colder, the air flowing freely from some unseen vent, and had a smell like a cross between bleach and summer wind (something he hoped wasn’t due to some strange chemical reaction).

The two separate lab tables were both hexagonal with another rectangular table placed in the center, and Alfred grabbed a stool underneath the first one, placing his book upon the black countertop. He sat in silence for a few moments, glancing around the room at the various glassware and charts hung on the walls, before someone else finally entered the room. He turned at the sound of footsteps, ready to make some witty quip about lab day, only to immediately shut his mouth upon seeing that it was Arthur. The other boy scowled before reluctantly sitting down beside him.

It took another few minutes of silence between the two before everyone had finally made their way into the room. Mr. Brewer came in last, tucking his pen into the pocket of his shirt and maneuvering around to stand in the middle of the lab tables. “Alright class,” He began, “Almost all of the materials you will need for your experiment are over here at the center table. The metal cylinders, iron and zinc filings, galvanized iron, and hydrochloric acid should all be labeled, and spot plates and beakers are in their usual places. You may begin!”

The rest of the class began bustling about, but Alfred just stood there in confusion. _Is that it?_ He thought, _Isn’t there supposed to be more instruction? This is just our first lab!_ He glanced around, trying to see what everyone else was doing so that he could copy them, only to come face-to-face with an annoyed-looking Arthur (he silently wondered if that was going to be a regular occurrence).

“Is there any particular reason you’re just standing here, or is it just part of your natural predisposition to stupidity?” Arthur asked, one eyebrow raised in contempt.

Alfred floundered for a second before adopting an indignant look of his own. “Well, do _you_ know what we’re supposed to be doing right now?”

The look on Arthur’s face fell a bit. “I…er…” He stammered before finally admitting, “Not really.”

A smirk began to grow on Alfred’s face before he realized that this meant that neither of them had any idea what was going on. A feeling of dread started to fill him, leading to him uncharacteristically stuttering, “I think we need to find the density of the mystery metal but I…uh…don’t really remember how to do that.”

Arthur’s face seemed to light up in recognition, and he whispered almost excitedly, “I do! Oh thank God _one_ of us remembers. Alright, you fill a graduated cylinder with water and I’ll weigh the metal…somewhere.” He looked around for a moment in search of a balance before taking off in a hurry, leaving Alfred alone at the lab table.

 _Why does everyone assume I know where this stuff is?_ Alfred questioned himself angrily, searching the shelves for the object. He had taken chemistry last year, but that didn’t mean that he had completely memorized the placement of every single object, and he didn’t really understand how everyone else seemed to just _know._ Hell, some of the kids in his class were seniors, meaning that it had been two years since they’d set foot in that room, and yet they still had no trouble. He silently cursed them as he made his way around the shelves, trying to act as if he knew what he was doing.

Alfred made a silent shout of victory when he finally found the graduated cylinders nestled between the funnels and the distilled water containers. He grabbed the cleanest one he could find (Arthur hadn’t told him what size and, frankly, he didn’t think it actually mattered) and quickly took it back to their lab station just as Arthur was bringing the metal back from the balance room.

“Here, let me see that.” Arthur demanded as he pulled it from Alfred’s grasp, “It would be ridiculous for both of us to do a job that’s really for one person – and I wrote the weight in my lab book, you might want to copy that down.”

Alfred, not wanting to give Arthur the satisfaction of agreeing with him, quietly and resentfully opened his book and began copying down what little data he had. Arthur’s handwriting was crisp and easily read, seeming to flow across the paper almost elegantly. Alfred snickered as he realized how very feminine the curling lines looked, causing his lab partner to look up from the graduated cylinder.

“What on earth are you laughing at?” He asked incredulously.

Alfred let out another small snicker. “Your handwriting is so… _girly_.”

“You mean legible?” Arthur asked sarcastically, “Because I assure you if that illegible scrawl you call writing is masculine, I’d much prefer to be grouped in with the ladies.”

Alfred paused for a moment, pretending to be distracted by something on the other side of the lab (in reality, he just couldn’t think of a good comeback). After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “Have you finished measuring the volume yet?”

“Ah – almost.” He responded, the question immediately putting him back into business mode, “I just need to write down the volumes. I figure we can do the actual calculations later, rather than wasting precious time now.”

Again, Alfred reluctantly agreed with his lab partner. “So now we move on to part two? Or do we have to wait until Brewer gives the go ahead?”

“We might as well start,” Arthur reasoned, “There’s still a half hour left of class. It’d be silly to waste it.”

“I’ll get the zinc and iron filings, plus the acid,” Alfred stated, not wanting to go on a wild goose chase around the lab, “And you can get the spot plate and…droppers? Is that what we need?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, that sounds about right. It’s only qualitative, so I don’t think we’d need something more exact.”

Arthur quickly located the objects, much to Alfred’s (jealous) surprise, and returned to their station before he could even open the lid to one of the containers. This, however, was for the best, as it became evident that they needed the spot plate to place the metals in. Alfred dumped out a small sample of each into two of the spaces, carrying it back to their section of the table with care. Arthur filled both droppers, handing one to Alfred.

“We have to do them both at the same time,” Arthur ordered, “So that we can observe them together.”

Alfred nodded, holding his dropper over the iron fillings as Arthur held his over the zinc.

“Alright, on the count of three.” He said almost under his breath, “One, two, three!”

The reaction took only a few seconds, and once both of them had completely finished Arthur moved away to record it in his notebook, Alfred following suit. Just as he finished making his notes, a booming voice called out from behind them.

“There’s about five minutes left in class, so it’s about time to start cleaning everything up. We’ll finish the rest of experiments tomorrow.”

Alfred turned to see Mr. Brewer standing in the center of the room once more (part of him wondered where he had been for the rest of class), fitting the lid back onto the jar of iron filings. Arthur began to gather the things they had used up, moving them to the sink, and Alfred halfheartedly did the same. As he washed out the graduated cylinder, he stared up at the clock in almost a daze. Most classes he spent watching the clock as much as possible, so how could he have not known it was time to go?

In fact, barring the moment he walked into the room, he couldn’t remember looking at the clock even once, and he couldn’t help but feel it was because of Arthur that the time had flown by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Alfred, why are you washing out the graduated cylinder, there was just distilled water in there.
> 
> Third chapter done and with it comes the introduction of ACTUAL SCIENCE. Surprising, I know. I’m going to try to focus more on their actual interactions than the chemistry, but bear in mind that there will still be a lot of chemistry going on. At some point these chapters are going to stop being day-by-day chem classes, but for now their initial few exchanges are most important to the story.  
> ~Alix Marie


	4. A Helping Hand

By the fourth day of AP Chemistry, Alfred knew that there wasn’t much good to be said about the class. It was boring, it was difficult, and it moved way too fast for any sane person to learn anything (he was struggling to even understand what was supposed to be review from _last_ year). But, barring everything else, it seemed he could count on enjoying a few minutes of an empty classroom before everyone else entered.

At least, he had presumed as much until he came face-to-face to a closed and locked classroom door on the first Friday of the school year.

He stared in wonder at the large oak door, reaching out and jiggling the knob as if it would magically open even after he had tried to open it _twice_ (third time’s the charm, right?). It simply stared back as if mocking him, and he glared at it.  Another small push at the door yielded no results, and Alfred slumped against the wall in defeat. There was no use wasting his strength on the obviously locked door, and unless he wanted to get expelled for damaging school property, he thought it best to just leave it be.

“What on earth are you doing?” A voice asked, and Alfred didn’t even have to look over to know that its pretentious tone belonged to Arthur.

“Enjoying the warm glow of florescent school lights. I figure if I stand here long enough I can get a tan.” Alfred replied sarcastically, not in the mood to deal with Arthur’s particular brand of condescending insults right that moment. Arthur himself rolled his eyes, shifting his books to his left hand so that he could wave him away with his right.

“Would you mind doing it somewhere less…essential?” He returned, his tone biting, “Because frankly your fat is blocking my path into the classroom.”

Alfred pouted, crossing his arms. “I’m not _fat._ ”

Arthur scoffed, his gaze pointedly sticking to Alfred’s middle section. “Call it whatever you like, but it’s currently stopping me from entering through the door, and I’d greatly appreciate it if you could _move._ ”

At this point, Alfred was so irritated by Arthur’s derogatory speech that he decided to forego the fact that the door was locked entirely and focus on the argument that they were having instead. It wasn’t difficult for him to adjust his hold on his own stack of books and slowly, petulantly, move entirely in front of the door.

“There you go!” He said, pleased with himself, “I moved just for you! I’m glad we’re such good friends, Artie, that we can share this kind of special bond.”

Arthur looked at him with disgust written plainly on his face. “Excuse me?” He uttered, more in defiance than actual surprise.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to be shy.” Alfred said in a sickeningly sweet tone, “You can feel free to admit that the reason you keep insulting me is because you think I’m super hot and attractive.”

Arthur actually looked genuinely sick at this, completely repulsed by his words. “Alright Jones, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up.” He said, his voice laced with barely-repressed anger, “One: We are not friends. Two: I am not and _will_ not ever be attracted to you. And three: _don’t fucking call me Artie._ ”

Alfred laughed, voice bouncing through the almost-empty hall and causing a few stragglers to stare in their direction. “Dude, you’ve got some serious anger management issues. I was just kidding, _duh._ ” A smug look was tossed in his direction, “Besides, why are you getting so defensive if it isn’t true?”

The hand which Arthur had previously been using to gesture Alfred out of the way was now being pressed to the bridge of his nose in frustration. Alfred’s grin only widened at this, pleased that he was finally able to get a rise out of the usually calm man. He watched as Arthur let a harsh breath out of his nose and looked up in frustration.

“I am _defensive_ because you’re insinuating things about me that aren’t true.” He said, voice tight with controlled rage. Alfred crossed his arms, leaning jauntily against the door.

“I don’t know man, I am a pretty attractive dude, and it seems to me like-” Alfred’s sentence was cut short as the door opened behind him and he fell, stumbling backwards into his equally surprised chemistry teacher standing on the other side. His eyes were wide with a slight hint of fear, arms braced behind him on the table nearest the door, and Arthur snickered as he brushed past him into the room.

“Oh yes, you’re very attractive.” He said with no small amount of sarcasm, smirking as he placed his things on the table. Mr. Brewer looked back and forth between them in confusion, but ultimately said nothing about the conversation that he seemed to have interrupted. It was only a few seconds later that the rest of the class began shuffling in as usual, Alfred still haphazardly leaning across the table. It was only when a large-chested young woman (he thought her name might be Catherine or something?) politely reminded him that he was lying on her seat that he dazedly made his way to his own chair, seating himself next to a smirking Arthur.

As the bell rang and Mr. Brewer began his brief announcements for the day’s class, Arthur leaned over slightly to whisper, “Well now, it seems you are rather speechless.”

Alfred only blinked back at him, still not entirely able to comprehend what had just happened. This made Arthur’s smirk widen just slightly, and he opened his mouth again, tongue barely gracing his lips in an almost seductive gesture as he said, “Perhaps that’s because _you’re_ hopelessly attracted to _me_.”

He pulled back, stuttering a bit as he stared in Arthur in surprise. For some reason, he hadn’t even considered that he would turn his own insults against him, and the sheer bewilderment he felt kept him just as speechless as he had been before. Luckily for him, he was saved from responding by Mr. Brewer, who had indicated that the class was to move to the lab to finish their experiments.

As they shuffled into the lab room, Alfred purposefully hung behind, wanting to avoid Arthur and that gaze he had given him. For some reason, that look left an odd feeling in his stomach (which he attributed to disgust over the thought of him finding Arthur attractive). Unfortunately for him, however, Arthur decided to hang back beside him, his smile seeming to grow every moment he failed to respond.

“That was a joke, of course.” Arthur snarked as they sat their books down upon the lab table, “But I’m starting to think that I’ve hit the nail on the head. You really _do_ find me attractive, don’t you?”

This time Alfred steeled himself, determined not to let Arthur get the best of him again. “Dude, no way. It’s just that what you said was so stupid I literally couldn’t respond. Plus, I’m not even gay.”

At this, Arthur snorted. “I swear, if you use anything close to the phrase ‘no homo’, I will hit you so hard you’ll regress into a past life. Anyway, we ought to get started with the last part of the lab. All of the other groups have already started.”

Alfred looked around to find that what Arthur said was true. They were the only ones still standing around talking, the rest of the students bustling about preparing for the day’s work. He half-blushed in embarrassment as he realized that not only had he been slacking off, but that he hadn’t even noticed the time passing. He floundered for a moment as he wondered what could have come over him, but soon gathered his bearings in order to respond.

“So this is the part with the galvanized iron, right?” He asked, more out of habit than actual curiosity, “Seems pretty easy. How about you weigh the sample while I get the acid ready?”

Arthur nodded absentmindedly as he turned away, Alfred following him as the made his way to the center table. He quickly checked the size of the sample that Arthur had grabbed before making his way around to where the beakers were shelved. He was glad, at least, that his frantic search for a graduated cylinder the day before had given him a general grasp of where things were stored, so it only took him a few seconds to find something the right size for their experiment. It was one of the tiniest beakers they had available, only 50 milliliters, and it fit right within the palm of his hand.

There was a few seconds of pause as he waited for a student with curly brown hair (this one was named Tony, he was sure of it) to finish pouring out his own acid. Once the boy had put the container back down and moved out of the way, Alfred hastily filled his beaker about half full. He wasn’t exactly sure how much acid they needed, but he didn’t want to pour too much and end up having to dump some back out, so he settled on a rough estimate.

Alfred set the glassware on the counter and stood there for a few moments until Arthur returned from the balance room. It was only a few seconds later that he dropped the galvanized iron into the hydrochloric acid, setting it gently against the side of the beaker. They watched as the sample ever-so-slowly began to bubble, and they sat in silence, waiting for all the zinc to dissolve.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Alfred was the first to notice that maybe there was a reason that the teacher had wanted them to wait and do this part on a separate day. It had been at least ten minutes since they had put the sample in, and yet it was still only barely bubbling. A quick glance around the room showed him that everyone else’s experiments were progressing much faster than theirs, and Alfred paled a bit as he realized that it was most likely his fault that everything was going so slowly for them – there _definitely_ wasn’t enough acid in that beaker. He reached over and elbowed Arthur, who had been distractedly writing something down in a small brown book.

“Hey, don’t you think this is going really slow?” He asked, careful not to reveal that he knew exactly why it was doing so.

“Actually, now that you mention it,” Arthur said with his brow furrowed, pen tapping at his teeth, “It _does_ seem to have a bit of a leisurely pace. Perhaps we should ask the teacher.”

Alfred nodded his consent to this plan, and they both waved hurriedly at Mr. Brewer, who made his way over to the boys. They quickly explained the situation they seemed to be in, and after a moment’s deliberation the teacher left and returned with a small glass rod.

“This is a stirring rod,” He said, handing it to Arthur, “My best estimate as to what’s happening here is that the galvanized iron needs to be flipped. The acid doesn’t seem to be reaching all of it. Just use the rod to move it around a little, that should help.”

As Mr. Brewer moved away, Arthur began to poke around in the beaker, trying to flip the sample over. It was difficult work, as the stick seemed to refuse to find any purchase underneath the iron, and both Alfred and Arthur grew increasingly frustrated at the tiny little _clinks_ of glass on glass that yielded no actual results.

Eventually, Alfred burst out, “Here, just let me do it.”

Arthur held out the stick for him to take, but Alfred’s hand brushed right past it and towards the beaker. In a matter of seconds, he plunged his hand into the acid, turned the sample upside down, and pulled his hand back out, shaking little droplets of acid off his fingertips. Arthur did nothing but gape as he walked over to the sink, completely straight-faced, and washed his hands calmly and collectedly. It was only after he had returned, wiping his hands on a paper towel, that he exploded.

“What the bloody hell did you just do?” Arthur asked, his tone caught between incredulous and furious.

Alfred looked over at him lamely, tossing the paper towel in the trashcan before replying, “I fixed the problem.”

Another few seconds of gaping followed this admission. “You _fixed_ the _problem?_ ” Arthur whisper-screamed, his tone conveying what his volume couldn’t, “You just stuck your hand in _hydrochloric fucking acid._ ”

“Four molar hydrochloric acid.” He replied, “It’s not even that concentrated.”

“It was _acid._ ” Arthur retorted, gesturing with his hands as if that would make him better understand his point.

Alfred shrugged. “It was the easiest solution.”

“Are you _mad_?” He asked, fury puncturing his every word, “You can’t just go around sticking your hand in bleeding _acid_ just because it’s more _convenient._ I literally cannot physically convey just how _stupid_ that is. You allowed yourself to come in contact with _the strongest acid in the world_ because it was _easy._ ”

There was a few seconds of silence, unbroken by nothing but Arthur’s heaving breaths, before Alfred made a noncommittal gesture and said, “Yeah, but it didn’t really hurt, so…”

Arthur pulled his hand back and slapped him straight across the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, a few important notes!  
>  One: I’ve had acid spilled on me enough times to know that no, it really doesn’t hurt unless it’s concentrated and you don’t wash it off quickly. And yes, I have in fact seen someone stick their hand in acid for a really avoidable reason and to this day it is the most confounding thing I’ve ever seen.   
> Two: Don’t stick your hand in acid. It’s physically possible to come out completely unharmed, but it’s still a really bad idea.   
> This chapter is part of the whole reason I wanted to write this fic, so I’m glad that I was actually able to fit it into the story! The next chapter will be surprisingly not their fifth day of chemistry class, so look forward to time skips and these two nerds bonding (bonding? Get it?) over chemistry.  
> ~Alix Marie


	5. Push Notifications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I managed to take longer between editing these chapters than it took me to write the entire fic in the first place. Sorry, I cannot believe I did that! Gotta love work - anyway, enjoy!

Alfred leaned back into the blue swiveling chair, checking around to see if the teacher was anywhere near before resting his feet on the table and heaving out a large sigh. He had one hand draped behind him and the other vigorously fanning at his face, attempting to cool himself down. Though there was debate among the students as to whether or not the school actually _had_ air conditioning, whatever they _did_ have was unquestionably down, and it seemed that the chemistry room had taken the brunt of the late summer heat.

Arthur sat beside him in the empty room, writing away in his notebook (Alfred wasn’t sure why - they hadn’t had a lab lately and it didn’t seem like they'd having one for a while). Other than a slight flush on his face, there was no indication that Arthur felt the heat, sipping at his usual post-lunch tea as if a hot drink in hot weather _wasn’t_ a terrible idea. Alfred didn’t comment on this though, and they continued on in the half-awkward silence that had become commonplace in the past week. He absentmindedly rubbed at his cheek, and winced when he prodded at the bruise that had blossomed over his right cheekbone.

Arthur’s pen stilled as he hesitantly glanced over at the younger boy. There was another few seconds of silence before he almost-timidly asked, “Is it still bruised?”

Alfred paused, not having expected him to say something, and oh-so-elegantly replied, “What?”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Your cheek.” He elaborated, “Is it still bruised?”

“Oh,” Alfred returned, blinking over at him, “Um, yeah. It is. Not too bad though, I think it’s gonna fade soon.”

That’s good.” Arthur stiltingly replied, licking at his lips, “That’s…yes, that’s very good.”

Another few seconds of silence passed, and then Alfred let out a small little laugh from his nose. “It hurts like hell though. You pack a mean punch, man.”

Instead of the intended effect (loosening Arthur up so they could go back to the enjoyable banter they had going on before), he turned away slightly, fiddling with his pen. And, if Alfred didn’t know better, he would have sworn that his face flushed a little more than it had already been. Silence prevailed once more, and Alfred wanted to throw something in frustration. He knew that Arthur didn’t really like him, but that didn’t change the fact that Alfred _did._ Though all of their conversations so far had been mostly just insults, they had been _easy_ conversations. Something about Arthur made him so comfortable to talk to, and he was frankly a little pissed that he had lost the one new friend (enemy? Acquaintance?) that he had made this school year.

He hadn’t even realized that he enjoyed Arthur’s company until they had stopped their little classroom whispers, a whole week spent doing nothing but listen to the teacher drone on. Occasionally he would look over during Mr. Brewer’s lectures, hoping that he’d be met with some sort of sarcastic quip or witty remark, but every time Arthur was just taking notes. It was awful, and yet somehow he just kept looking over with the hope that he’d be looking back.

The worst parts, however, were when Alfred would try to start up a conversation. There would be a few words exchanged between them, none of them with the bite and snark of the ones before, and then just silence. It was driving Alfred insane, partially because he was a naturally social creature, and partially because he _knew_ Arthur could do better than that. Those little stilting conversations made him want to slam his fist into a wall.

“I, uh,” Arthur began, startling Alfred out of his reverie, “I’m not sure that I apologized for…well, for slapping you. I was completely out of line and I’m sorry.”

Alfred stared at him in amazement, absolutely sure that Arthur’s face was reddening from more than just the heat. There was another few seconds of uncomprehending quiet before he let out a small laugh and stated, “Nah, man, it’s cool. I mean, I get that you pretty much hate me. It’s no skin off my back, ya know? Bygones being bygones and all that.”

“ _Hate_ you? I don’t hate you.” Arthur contradicted, eyebrows furrowing, “I-I mean, I don’t _like_ you, but I certainly don’t hate you.”

Now it was Alfred’s turn to be confused, his nose scrunching up as he questioned, “If you don’t hate me then why would you slap me?”

More blood flushed to Arthur’s face, filling even the tips of his ears with bright, cherry red. “D-don’t be stupid.” He stated, eyes averted from his lab partner, “It’s just because you were being rather ridiculous, a-and I wouldn’t wish for even my _worst_ enemy to be harmed in that sort of manner, that’s all.”

Alfred tried to ignore Arthur’s odd behavior in order to focus on the more favorable parts of this discussion. “So does this mean we’re friends now?” He asked, excitement filling his voice.

Arthur blanched, all the color in his face wiping out in a second. “Where on earth would you get that idea? I _just_ said I didn’t like you, and– “

“Yeah, but we _are_ lab partners.” Alfred interrupted, “And we’ve had plenty of conversations before so it’s not like we don’t have anything to talk about. Plus, you kind of owe me after giving me this bruise. Do you know how hard it was to explain this to my parents?”

“I don’t owe you anything!” Arthur exclaimed, appalled at what he was saying, “Especially not my friendship! Besides, that’s not even a valid way to apologize for–“

Alfred interrupted him again, grin widening with every second that passed, “Nope! I’ve decided it already. You and me are gonna be great friends, Artie!”

Arthur looked absolutely scandalized. “I thought I already told you not to call me that!”

“Yeah, you did.” He replied, “But I’m ignoring it because we’re friends now!”

As Arthur opened his mouth to argue, the door burst open and the rest of the class made their way to their seats, just barely on time as usual. Part of Alfred wanted to announce his new friend to the class just to annoy him further, but he held back on account of how he didn’t know most of these people’s names. The room was filled with noise now, contrary to the awkward silence that had prevailed just a few minutes ago, and yet their conversation failed to continue, fizzling out as neither of them could think of anything to say.

Mr. Brewer walked in with a wave and a smile, heading towards his desk in the back of the room, and Alfred had to hold back a groan. Even in the one week that he had been in AP Chemistry, he had learned that him actually utilizing his desk meant it was going to be a lecture day (i.e. the day where Alfred discovers new and exciting ways to doodle in his notebook). He sighed as the teacher opened the powerpoint, less than ecstatic to find out what the topic of the day was. _Stoichiometry?_ He thought, a look of disgust crossing his face at the relatively basic topic, _I know this is supposed to be review, but do we really need to go over this?_

Alfred’s internal monologue was cut off when Mr. Brewer had a petite blonde girl (Lucy? Annie? He really needed to learn these people’s names) turn off the lights, plunging the room into blackness aside from the projector screen and one small lava lamp sitting on the table behind him. As the teacher began discussing a topic they had spent most of first-year chemistry learning, Alfred opened his notebook to a fresh page. However, as he stared down at the blank sheet in front of him, he suddenly got an idea, and his mouth settled into an excitable grin.

 _This is pretty boring, right? Like, ugh, stoich is so basic_ , Alfred wrote at the top of the paper, words barely visible under the faint glow from the lava lamp, and passed the book over towards Arthur.

Alfred watched in anticipation as he scanned the paper, wrote a quick reply, and shoved the book back at him. _Don’t pass notes in class, idiot._

 _But it’s just stoich! It’s not like we actually need to pay attention, we know this stuff already!_ Alfred scrawled, shoving the book at Arthur and giving him an indignant glance.

Arthur rolled his eyes. _That doesn’t mean that there couldn’t be new information along with the old. And stop shoving that thing over here, with all the commotion you’re making we’re bound to get a detention._

Alfred pulled it back, reading the note and placing the book squarely between them. _There, now we don’t have to move it. And if you really believed that, you wouldn’t still be writing to me!_

He watched as Arthur scanned over the words, and followed his hand as he scrawled back his own reply. _Yes, well._

Arthur sat there for a moment, pen poised over the paper, but seemed to be unable to think of an excuse. After a few seconds, Alfred pushed his hand out of the way and wrote, _That’s what I thought._

Arthur glared at him. _He’s only just introducing the topic. The important things will come later._

Alfred grinned and reached over, leaning in slightly to make it easier for him to write. _Nice excuse. Too bad you couldn’t think of that when it actually counted._

 _It counts now._ Arthur scowled, pushing lightly at Alfred’s shoulder in an attempt to make him move further away from him.

Alfred stood his ground, not budging as Arthur wanted him to. _Nah, not really. Because the point of an excuse was to not let me know that you actually want to talk to me, but now I know so it doesn’t count._

Arthur looked scandalized. _I beg your pardon?_

 _You like talking to me,_ Alfred wrote, smug grin on his face.

Another eye roll. _Did you miss the part of our earlier conversation where I said I didn’t like you? Because that is a fact that still holds true. Perhaps you suffer from selective memory? Or are you just too stupid to understand what those words mean?_

Alfred didn’t even attempt to hide his blindingly bright smile. Though Arthur was insistent on their _not_ being friends, they had still returned to exchanging witty jabs at each other, and that was more than enough for him. Of course, that by no means meant that he was going to give up on being friends with Arthur, but it was a good first step. _Sorry, I don’t speak stuffy old man._

 _Excuse you?_ Arthur wrote, eyebrows furrowed, _Maybe you should try speaking proper English instead of your ridiculous misspelled American language._

Alfred stifled a laugh. _Artie, I’m pretty sure I haven’t misspelled a single word in this entire conversation._

He watched as Arthur’s eyes darted over the page, trying and failing to find any instance where a word was spelled wrong. Eventually he put his pen back down to the paper and wrote, _Don’t call me Artie._

Alfred smiled in triumph, and Arthur rolled his eyes in response. Just as he was about to jot down another reply, the lights flashed on. He looked around the room, trying to adjust to the change, when he noticed that the powerpoint had been exited out of and the teacher was making friendly conversation with the group at the other end of the room. As he realized that class was almost over, he hurriedly slammed his notebook shut, trying to hide the evidence that he had just wasted an entire class.

Arthur looked over at him, eyebrows raised, and he shrugged in response. “Well, I guess we can actually talk now, right?” Alfred asked.

The bell rang, interrupting what little conversation they’d been able to make, and they both began packing up their things. As Arthur stood up, he looked over with a smirk and replied, “No.”

Alfred laughed and followed him as he made his way out of the room, the two of them walking in companionable silence until their paths diverged at the end of the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five done! And with it our two little chemistry nerds completely ignore chemistry class. Nice work, guys.
> 
> Thank you so much for the response I’ve gotten to this story! It’s honestly more than I ever could have hoped for, and every favorite, follow, or review absolutely brightens my day when I see it! I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it!  
> ~Alix Marie


	6. Lucky (Atomic) Number 13

Alfred leaned back in his chair, reaching into his bag of chips and tossing one into his mouth. He placed one foot on an empty blue chair in front of him, the other still flat on the ground in order to rock him back and forth as he ate his snack. Another chip was thrown into his mouth, and another few seconds went by with nothing but the sound of him chewing. Eventually, however, Arthur popped up from behind his notebook, sending him a glare.

“Aren’t you not supposed to have food in the classroom?” He asked, conveniently ignoring the fact that he had, just a few seconds ago, been taking a sip out of his own contraband tea.

“Nope.” Alfred stated gleefully, and popped another chip in his mouth.

Arthur gritted his teeth. “Then why do you _have_ it?” He questioned, voice full of frustration.

“Why do you care?” He replied nonchalantly.

“Because your _chewing_ ,” Arthur forced out from between his clenched teeth, “Is very much so bothering me. Why do you feel the need to eat that right now instead of, oh I don’t know, in the cafeteria during lunch?”

“I forgot to bring more lunch money so my account’s empty. This was all I could grab so that I don’t starve to death.” Alfred reasoned, continuing to eat his half-full bag of chips.

Arthur stared at him, baffled. “If you didn’t have money for lunch then how the hell could you afford to buy chips?”

Alfred stared at him in confusion for a moment, before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot that you’re British!” He laughed, ignoring Arthur’s quick glare, “Dude, chips are like a buck and lunch is almost three dollars. They don’t let you buy partial meals, so I scrounged up a couple quarters from the bottom of my bookbag and voila! I have chips.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You are aware that I have been in this country for many years now, aren’t you? I barely even remember what it’s like to attend school there.” He reasoned, his voice filled with sarcasm, “And besides, that hardly explains why you couldn’t still have eaten in the cafeteria. Or, furthermore, why you couldn’t have just borrowed a few dollars from someone.”

Alfred shrugged, forcing a grin on his face as he went back to eating his chips in silence. The truth was, he didn’t have anybody that could have lent him the cash so that he could eat. After the school had decided that AP Chemistry was to take A lunch and the rest of the junior class was to take B or C, Alfred was left with no friends, no acquaintances, and absolutely nobody to eat lunch with. Which at first didn’t seem like it would be much of a problem, considering his extraverted nature and friendly demeanor, but more often than not the people he had tried to talk to found him annoying rather than funny, and he was stuck eating alone. He could have just found Arthur and asked him, but he’d rather he thought him an idiot than a friendless loser.

Alfred was pulled from his thoughts when the door opened and, for once, only one person walked in. Francis flipped his relatively long hair behind him as he strode in the room without his friends beside him as the usually were. He only had a minute to process this oddity before Francis was crossing the room, leaning over the table and whispering, “Arthur, may I speak to you for a moment?”

Arthur scowled. “You already are, frog.”

Francis gave him an insistent glance and he acquiesced, following the blond man out of the room with a huff. Alfred sat there for a moment, not entirely sure what had just happened. He had figured out earlier that they knew each other, but it had seemed like they weren’t really on the best terms. So why did Francis need to talk to him so urgently? And why did Arthur agree?

Alfred was so caught up in his musing that he didn’t notice another young man come up beside him until he had begun waving his hand in front of his face. He started, nearly jumping out of his seat as the boy snickered. As he sat himself down in the seat that Arthur had vacated, Alfred relaxed a bit, taking in the sight of the student in front of him. _This guy is one of Francis’s friends,_ He thought, _What’s his name? Gavin? Garret? Garr…Ga…Gil…Gilbert! That was it!_

“Hey Gilbert!” Alfred practically shouted in his joy over actually remembering someone’s name for once, “What’s up?”

Gilbert snickered again, reaching over and pulling one of the chips out of Alfred’s bag, much to his protest. “Well you’re all alone over here, and I’m all alone over there, so the awesome me figured I’d come over here and spend some quality time with one of my successors.”

Alfred scrunched up his nose. “Did you just use the third person with the word awesome? And what do you mean by successors?”

Gilbert laughed heartily and threw his arm around Alfred’s shoulder. “I absolutely did. And you _are_ my successor, you’re a junior who likes to mess around with people. Once I leave this school, you’re gonna have to be the one to follow in my footsteps and create mass chaos. I have to begin training you now.”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Alfred hurriedly said, stopping the increasingly ridiculous speech in its path, “You’re a senior?”

“Yes?” Gilbert questioned, looking at him oddly.

“I thought we were all juniors in this class.” He asked, staring down at the apparently older boy.

“It’s almost an even split.” Gilbert answered, stealing another chip from Alfred’s bag, “Me, Elizaveta, and Katyusha are seniors, and the rest of you are in the junior class. All five of you.”

Alfred stared at the albino man in disbelief, his mouth continuing to hang open long after he had taken Alfred’s bag of chips entirely and went back to his own chair. How could he not have known that there were seniors in this class? It wasn’t that it didn’t make sense, exactly; he had just never considered the fact before. In all of his previous three years of high school, he had almost never had a class with upperclassmen in it save for theatre. It was disconcerting.

A few seconds later, Arthur returned to his seat, looking tired and vaguely pissed off. Alfred wanted to ask what was wrong, but before he could even open his mouth Mr. Brewer entered the room and began making announcements for the day. He inwardly cursed the teacher, intensely curious about what it was that Francis wanted to talk about and why it had made Arthur so upset.

“As you know, tomorrow we’re having another lab which you _should_ have already begun preparing for,” The teacher lectured, knowing that most of his students hadn’t even started writing the procedure, “But you should know that the day after that we will be having our first test over chapters one through three.”

Alfred glanced over at Arthur, the two of them sharing a look of confusion. Why was this the first they were hearing of this?

“I know it seems sudden,” He continued, “But unit one is all review material, and if you’ve done all the reading and the suggested book problems, you should be fine.”

Alfred wanted to laugh at this. The teacher had to know that nobody was going to do any of the book problems unless he assigned them as official homework. He turned to share another look with Arthur, but he was facing forward, body rigid and hands still upon the table.

“When I was taking a chemistry class in college,” Mr. Brewer persisted, Alfred resisting the urge to roll his eyes, “I had a teacher who gave out plenty of suggested book problems per chapter. I kept up with them the first couple of weeks, but eventually gave up. However, about halfway through the semester I got really sick and missed a few weeks of school. My grade dipped down to a D. And when I went to the teacher to ask him to raise my grade, do you know what he said? Show me your book problems. And when I couldn’t produce them, he told me he couldn’t raise my grade and I failed that class.”

Alfred was nearly on the verge of tears at this point, struggling to keep from laughing out loud at the absolute ridiculousness of his teacher’s story. He bit his lip, attempting to take deep breaths without gaining the teachers attention (and most likely a detention). Once he had his sporadic breathing under control, he turned again to look at Arthur, pulling out his notebook and a pen so they could exchange notes. Arthur, however, had paled since his last looked at him, his hands clenched around his own pen as he stared distantly towards the front of the classroom.

Alfred quickly jotted down a note and shoved it towards him. _Dude, are you okay?_

It took a few seconds for Arthur to notice the notebook sitting in front of him, and even longer to reply. _Fine, why?_

 _You don’t look fine,_ Alfred wrote, trying to send Arthur a concerned look across the paper.

Arthur rolled his eyes, a slight bit of color returning to his face. _I have a cold. Satisfied?_

 _Not really, but I can tell you aren’t gonna tell me anything so I’ll accept that for now,_ Alfred wrote, watching as Arthur scowled and began writing something back.

Obviously something was wrong with him, any idiot could tell that. And, whatever it was, he knew it had to have something to do with whatever Francis had said to him outside of the chemistry room.  He had never trusted that guy, not from the minute he had walked into the classroom with his fancy hair and stupid accent, and especially not now when he had clearly done something to upset Arthur.

 _Have you started preparing your lab for tomorrow?_ Arthur replied, jolting Alfred yet again out of his thoughts.

 _Psh, not at all. Why, have you?_ He asked, wondering if Arthur was going to tell him about any potential issues with the pre-lab (heavens knew he needed the tips after the mess he had made of his _last_ one).

Arthur rolled his eyes. _Of course I have. Anyway, I was wondering if you had any idea what mass of aluminium we’re meant to use. I was thinking about one gram, but I wasn’t sure._

Alfred scrunched up his nose as he replied. _Yeah, from what little I’ve looked at it one gram seems about the right amount. And I thought you were supposed to be a huge grammar nerd. What happened?_

 _What do you mean?_ Arthur replied, his brows furrowing.

 _Dude, you misspelled aluminum,_ Alfred shoved the notebook back at him.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, looking over at Alfred in disbelief as he read his message. _I most certainly did not. You’re the one who misspelled aluminium just now in your response._

 _Man, I know how to spell aluminum, you’re not tricking me into thinking I’m the one who spelled it wrong,_ Alfred replied with a nod of indignation.

Arthur looked incredulous at this assertion. _It’s spelled aluminium, I can prove it. I’ve got a dictionary with me for English next period._

As Arthur pulled out a pocket-sized dictionary out from underneath his stack of notebooks, Alfred resisted the urge to snort at how nerdy of a thing that was (ignoring the fact that he himself carried a miniature periodic table around with him at all times). He watched in earnest as Arthur turned through the pages, coming to rest on one of the earlier pages. They both scrolled the page in earnest until they came to rest on the entry, which had a title that read:

_Aluminum(Aluminium; chiefly British)_

They both stared at the entry in somewhat of a daze, both of them too stunned to speak (or write, as it were). After a moment, Arthur reached over and took the book from Alfred’s clasped hands, uncapping his pen and replying, _It was a bloody cultural difference_. _We were both right._

Alfred almost nodded in agreement, but then a thought came to him. _Actually, since we’re in America, I’m right and you’re wrong. Better luck next time!_

Arthur stared at him incredulously as the bell rang and Alfred walked jauntily out the door, smug grin plastered on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, aluminium is more fun to say.
> 
> So now Francis and Gilbert have introduced themselves back into the story aside from their brief appearances earlier. All of the characters in their chemistry class are going to play big roles in this story, so watch out for that! The next couple of chapters are going to follow this chronologically again, so that means more day-by-day playthroughs of these nerds’ lives.
> 
> And thank you all so much for every single favorite, follow, and review! I really do appreciate all of you and I’m so happy that you like it!
> 
> ~Alix Marie

**Author's Note:**

> So I’m finally starting this au! I’ve wanted to write this ever since I finished AP Chem, so rest assured that all the information will (probably) be correct! All of the teachers in this are oc’s, mostly because I don’t hate any Hetalia character enough to make them teach the worst subject ever created. I hope you liked the first chapter of what will (hopefully) be many!  
> ~Alix Marie


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